Oxen Ploughing (music - Martha Woods, lyrics - trad. / Nev Meek, adapted by Martha Woods)

It’s oh my little ploughboys come and waken in the morn

When the cock upon the dunghill is a-blowing of his horn,

Soon the sun above Gerran’s Bay his golden face will show,

Therefore hasten to the linney, yoke the oxen to the plough.

Long for we awaken the ploughboy’s begun his toil,

Along the vor he lightly treads as the share cuts in the soil.

Neatly he turns the sods, each vor is long and narrow

On the morn he’ll be out again to halve it with a harrow.

For it’s the little ploughboy that sings in the morn,

With his up along, jump along, he guides the plough along

To Pretty, Sparkle, Berry, Goodluck, Speedwell, Cherry...

For he is the lad that can work along the plough,

For he is the lad that can work along the plough.

And if the plough should stand still for a very little while,

No crops could then be grown, and the farmer lost his smile,

No seed for next year’s crop, no wheat, no barley, corn or rye,

All around the barren land stock will soon be left to die

For if the miller had no corn, no flour then could he sell,

Alas, his mill must stand still and he himself as well

And if the baker had no flour, no bread then could he bake,

His oven must stand empty, no buns or saffron cake.

For it’s the little ploughboy that sings in the morn,

With his up along, jump along, he guides the plough along

To Pretty, Sparkle, Berry, Goodluck, Speedwell, Cherry...

For he is the lad that can work along the plough,

For he is the lad that can work along the plough.

Now, all you silly tradesmen who think you’re very grand,

You think that your trade will support all in the land

But with no goods to bring to market, then nothing can you sell,

With no bread for the poor man, how long starvation, who can tell?

Oh, the farmer must have seed, sirs, or I swear he cannot sow,

And the miller with his mill wheel is an idle man also,

And the baker gives up baking and the tradesman stands aside,

And the poor man’s bread is wanting, so tis we for all provide…

And it’s the little ploughboy that sings in the morn,

With his up along, jump along, he guides the plough along

To Pretty, Sparkle, Berry, Goodluck, Speedwell, Cherry...

For he is the lad that can work along the plough.

For it’s the little ploughboy that sings in the morn,

With his up along, jump along, he guides the plough along

To Pretty, Sparkle, Berry, Goodluck, Speedwell, Cherry...

For he is the lad that can work along the plough,

For he is the lad that can work along the plough,

For he is the lad that can work along the plough.